


How Bucky Barnes Convinced Steve Rogers He Loved Him (or, the many times Bucky told Steve and the one time he listened)

by powerfulowl (StuckyFlangst)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Idiots in Love, Just Idiocy, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Persistent Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Roommates, Science Nerd Bucky Barnes, Steve in particular, Tattoo Artist Steve Rogers, Tattooed Steve Rogers, just a little, no misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuckyFlangst/pseuds/powerfulowl
Summary: Bucky laid his head down on the table (carefully so as not to mess up his hair too much – he’d just blow dried it this morning thank you very much) and groaned.‘It is that bad Nat.’ He sat up again and took a long draw on his own iced coffee (milk, cream, icecream, sugar). ‘Bucky, I said to myself, how bad can it be? It’s seven years since you graduated, you can’t still be in love with your childhood BFF. This is real life. You are a grown man. You’ve been in other relationships. You’ve moved on. You can totally move in with Steve and Sam and it will be cool. Just bros living together. Sharing a house.’-----The tale of how Bucky Barnes tried to woo his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, and how Steve just refused to take the hint. They say desperate times call for desperate measures.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 35
Kudos: 179





	How Bucky Barnes Convinced Steve Rogers He Loved Him (or, the many times Bucky told Steve and the one time he listened)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fingerprintbruises](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingerprintbruises/gifts).



> Welcome to another prompt response from me. This prompt was a true idiots in love from fingerprintbruises.
> 
> Steve is so OBLIVIOUS to all the signals Bucky's given that he likes/loves him. Didn't get it even when Bucky spelled it out. So Bucky comes up with an ingenious (or is it ridiculous?) plan to capture his attention once and for all....

_I._

The first time Bucky Barnes told Steve Rogers that he loved him Bucky was 14 and Steve was 13.

They met 5 years before when Steve was fighting off a group of boys trying to kick a stray dog. Bucky had adopted both Steve and the dog immediately and brought them home to long-suffering Winifred Barnes. Krypto joined the Barnes family and Steve became a regular at the house – Winnie tending the black eyes and broken lips of both boys on days when Sarah Rogers was at work.

Bucky had a bright, easy charm which made him popular at school, but Steve Rogers captured the hidden parts of his heart – unsure and tender. Steve was fierce and certain and brave and fit just right under Bucky’s arm when they walked home from school together.

When Steve, chin jutted out and eyebrows pulled into a defiant scowl, told Bucky he liked both girls and boys, Bucky tucked him under his arm and said _I don’t care Stevie as long as you like me_. Steve laughed and said _Of course I like you Bucky, but this is like – you know – sex and stuff_.

Bucky ruffled his hair and laughed too.

But the words crept through his skin slowly, over the weeks and months and he thought to himself _who do I like?_ He tried out kissing girls out near the school fence, at parties, and he liked it alright. He tried out kissing one of the boys from his soccer team, and another person from his board game club. Kissing was pretty good, he found. But as a feeling it didn’t compare to the feeling of Steve pressed against his body as they walked, or their legs tangled together as they lay at either end of the couch at the Rogers’ place, or the warmth of waking up next to Steve when they shared a bed together, which they always did when they had a sleep over.

So when Bucky was 14 and Steve was 13 and they were sitting on Steve’s bed, Bucky turned to Steve.

‘Steve,’ Bucky said, pulling at the quilt covers, ‘I got something to tell you.’

Steve looked up at Bucky through his long eyelashes. His face was still boyish but the line of his jaw was becoming clearer, stronger. Bucky wanted to run a finger along it. Bucky wanted a lot of things.

‘I – um – I really like you Steve.’ Bucky’s heart was hammering in his chest.

‘I like you too, Bucky, you know that,’ Steve grinned at him and elbowed him in the ribs gently, sending a thrill through Bucky’s side.

‘No, I mean _like like_ you Steve.’ Bucky inhaled and flicked his eyes up nervously, meeting Steve’s summer blue eyes.

‘Oh Buck,’ Steve placed his big, long-fingered hands over Bucky’s. ‘I know you’re finding yourself at the moment, and I know you’ve worked out you like girls and boys and _people_ , but you could have anyone you want. It’s okay for us just to be friends.’ Steve smiled gently.

And oh, oh, Bucky’s heart broke a little, _a lot_ , and he blinked furiously. He was such a crier. But Steve didn’t want him like that, so Bucky hid his tears by pulling Steve into a hug and leaving as quickly as he could.

He cried into his pillow for hours that night. The next day his eyes were so red and puffy he decided to borrow some of Winnie’s eye makeup. After some heavy kohl eyeliner and some purple shadowing he looked pretty hot. He coupled it with a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt with _Diva_ in pink sequins that he stole from Becca’s closet. It was too small for him and stretched tight across his chest.

Steve grinned at him when they met on the corner to walk to school together.

‘You look great, Bucky. New look?’

Bucky smiled a little shakily and nodded, hitching his bag up.

‘Yeah. You know, figuring stuff out.’ Bucky turned on his heel and set off a little ahead of Steve, biting his lip, heart racing.

Figuring out how to live without Steve Rogers loving him back.

_II._

‘It’s not that bad, James, you’re just being a drama queen,’ Nat rolled her eyes at him and took a sip of her iced coffee (no milk, no cream, no icecream, no sugar).

Bucky laid his head down on the table (carefully so as not to mess up his hair too much – he’d just blow dried it this morning thank you very much) and groaned.

‘It is that bad Nat.’ He sat up again and took a long draw on his own iced coffee (milk, cream, icecream, sugar). ‘Bucky, I said to myself, how bad can it be? It’s seven years since you graduated, you can’t still be in love with your childhood BFF. This is real life. You are a grown man. You’ve been in other relationships. You’ve moved on. You can totally move in with Steve and Sam and it will be cool. Just bros living together. Sharing a house.’

And it had seemed like a great idea. Bucky was sick of California. Sick of Silicon Valley. He’d worked for three different start ups that were going to change the world in one way or another (self-driving electric cars, a wellness app and a biotech company). Two had gone bust and the third turned out to be not so interested in saving anyone but more in getting rich and selling technology to the US military (that was the wellness app). So when he had an offer to work as a regular IT guy for a civil engineering company in Brooklyn he’d jumped at the chance.

And who happened to be looking for a roommate in Williamsburg but Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. And who was the idiot that jumped at the chance? James Buchanan Barnes.

Nat slurped at her bitter brew. Her hair was blonde and cut short. It looked amazing of course. She was wearing some white strappy piece of stretchy fabric that showed off her tattoo sleeves – flowers and leaves winding around her arms, across her chest where swallows swooped. Tattoos that _Steve_ had given her.

‘You’ve moved on from when you asked Steve to go to prom with you and he said _yeah Bucky, that sounds great, we can all go as a big group of friends as a way of rejecting the couple form_. You’ve moved on from that.’ Another slurp.

Bucky glared at her.

‘You looked so good that night,’ she says with a faux wistful tone, ‘in that 40s style suit with the braces. You had a pink shirt and a grey suit, Steve was in light blue and navy.’

‘I remember,’ Bucky grumbled and ate some icecream.

‘You remember because you still have the photo saved on your phone, of the two of you dancing and you looking down at Steve like he’s the entire universe.’ Nat raised an eyebrow at him, and Bucky stuck out his tongue. Steve _was_ the universe. Whatever. Bucky remembered spinning Steve out and then back in again; the feel of Steve’s slight form pressed against Bucky’s chest.

 _This_ was a great thing about coming back to New York. Nat being here to make fun of him and kick his feet and take him out dancing. Even though he hated her right now.

‘I hate you right now,’ he said.

‘Speak of the devil,’ Nat said, nodding out the coffee shop window.

And there, walking down the street like it had personally offended him, was Steve Rogers. Who, as soon as he moved out from under Bucky’s (and Sarah’s and Winnie’s) watchful eye, down to Texas, had managed to volunteer for some crazy medical experiment that had made him shoot up to over 6 feet tall and pack on muscle like a fucking quarterback.

His spine still curved – Bucky noticed it in the way he walked, had seen the familiar S when Steve walked through their apartment in a towel and bent down to retrieve something from under the couch. Bucky was pretty sure Steve had caught him with his mouth hanging open, spoonful of oatmeal poised halfway to his mouth. Seeing that familiar curve in the expanse of Steve’s rippling back, the scattering of freckles around his neck, the mole on his shoulder-blades, decorated with an eagle swooping across his spine, a northern star on his right shoulder, had made the long suppressed and sleeping love in Bucky’s chest start to wakefulness. Bucky almost thought he’d made a little sound.

But Steve hadn’t mentioned anything, or even given Bucky a knowing look. Maybe he just thought Bucky was looking at the art on his skin.

It was hot and Steve was wearing a tight white tank top and a pair of rolled up denim shorts. His pale skin was gloriously decorated with Celtic symbols, cacti, flowers, a pair of swallows that matched Natasha’s swooping over his pecs.

And as he burst into the coffee shop, face pulled into an indignant frown, every inch of him was still Stevie Rogers – fierce and ferocious and certain and angry.

‘He’s mad about something,’ Nat said.

Steve landed beside Bucky in the booth with a huff, warm and smelling of sweat and summer and ink. His shoulder pressed against Bucky’s and Bucky couldn’t help but lean into it a little.

‘You would not _believe_ the guy who just came in today,’ Steve launched immediately, not even saying hello. Bucky and Nat shook their heads in unison.

‘So it’s a drop in. A couple. The guy says they want matching hearts on their sternums with one another’s names. Peter hands them the consent forms and starts talking through all the information. Wanda is doing walk -ns so she comes to ask them some questions.’ Bucky and Nat nodded, Bucky enjoying the trembling he could feel through Steve, whose whole body was pressed against Bucky now – the length of their thighs as well as their arms.

‘Anyway, she asks if they’ve had tattoos before. The guy is like yeah yeah. So Wanda turns to the woman and she shakes her head. Wanda says okay, because the sternum is quite painful. The woman is looking really uncomfortable, but the guy just butts in saying, we’re sure, here’s the design.’

Steve shook his head and accepted the glass of iced water Nat pushed towards him.

‘It was so shit. _So shit_. Just a fucking heart outline with names. So Wanda says – I can sketch something, but are _you sure_ and she looks straight at the woman. And the guy says _yes we’re sure_. And Wanda says – are _you_ sure to the woman again. And _the guy says yes_.’ Steve was so outraged now he flung his huge arms up, meaning his right arm was behind Bucky, who’s skin was humming with joy while his heart wept in his chest.

‘I bet that didn’t go down well,’ Nat said dryly.

‘ _It did not_ ,’ said Steve. As he continued to tell the story, which probably involved shouting and possibly the guy being picked up by Steve, Bucky just drifted, watching how the light caught the red in Steve’s beard, how his shaggy hair was bleached by the long summer days, how his cheeks still flushed pink when he got mad, how the sweat made his skin shine and the light caught the curve of his biceps, his chest.

‘ _Bucky_ ,’ Natasha snapped. Whoops. Maybe that wasn’t the first time she’d said it. Her eyebrow was up again and when Bucky turned to look at Steve he was smiling softly through his beard, apparently all ranted out.

‘You want anything else, Buck?’ Steve asked. ‘I think I should have a camomile tea or something.’

Bucky blushed and looked at his empty ice coffee. ‘Umm, I guess I could get something small,’ he said.

‘Maybe a smoothie? Some fruit?’ Steve said.

‘Yeah, sounds good,’ Bucky replied, flustered by Steve taking an interest in his fruit consumption levels (which were low).

As Steve went over to stand in the line, clouds having cleared and face taking on a clearer, sunnier aspect, Natasha leaned across the table.

‘Why don’t you just tell him. You’re both adults now.’ Nat nodded towards Steve. ‘I think he actually might like you back. I think he might have always liked you, Bucky, he’s just always been a bit insecure about romance.’

Bucky scoffed. But a thoughtful scoff.

_III._

So, Bucky started trying. To drop some hints. He let his gaze linger on Steve’s body all sweaty after his morning run. Watch Steve’s throat bobbing as he drank his coconut water. Bucky could feel the blush rising to his cheeks, but he met Steve’s eyes and let his eyelashes flutter a little.

Steve would just smile that soft smile and offer Bucky a glass.

Bucky started timing his yoga sessions for when Steve was in the living area, sketching or reading. Bucky had invested in a really excellent pair of yoga shorts – red and tight and very short – and a mesh exercise tank. Bucky loved that mesh was acceptable sporting wear fashion. Bucky would genuinely try to focus on his poses, his flow, but when he was in downward dog he might have peeked through his legs to see if Steve was looking his way.

And Steve _did_ seem interested. Did seem to glance at Bucky through those eyelashes which Bucky knew were un-enhanced by medical science, were one hundred per cent Steve Rogers magic. Like those full, pink, parted lips with a pencil pressed between them.

Okay, sometimes the yoga shorts were a little _too_ revealing and Bucky had to drop back into child’s pose to calm down.

Sam would roll his eyes if he saw Bucky pulling out the yoga mat.

‘There’s not enough space in my room _Sam_ ,’ Bucky would say,

‘Sure.’ Sam would stare pointedly at Steve and exit the room.

‘Why don’t you ask him out, man,’ Sam asked Bucky one night. Steve was out at some community meeting and Bucky and Sam were eating popcorn and bonding over _Top Gun_.

Bucky groaned. ‘I’ve been so _obvious_. He _must_ know that I like him. I mean, I _told_ him I liked him 13 years ago and he turned me down. Surely it’s in his court now?’

Bucky knew he sounded ridiculous.

‘Look,’ Sam said. ‘I know Steve seem really together, but he’s not always the most confident guy when it comes to romance. He’s been burned a few times.’

Bucky stared at the screen where Val Kilmer was looking impossibly cool and hot.

‘But he’s so – _perfect_ ,’ Bucky said, disbelieving.

‘Maybe to you,’ Sam shook his head. ‘But he’s a prickly guy, and not everyone likes that. And since the treatment he’s struggled with looking so –’ Sam hesitated.

‘Yeah,’ Bucky sighed. ‘But I liked him before all that.’

Sam nudged him. ‘That’s why you should ask him. I think he’d appreciate that you like him for who he is.’

Who was Steve now? Bucky wondered. Did he know him? Since Bucky had moved back in Steve had been strangely reticent about the years they’d lost touch. And even when they were younger, while so much of Steve’s emotions seemed to dance on the surface of his skin, there were depths there filled with shadows Bucky had only glimpsed.

_IV._

So Bucky decided he’d ask Steve out.

First, Bucky asked Steve out for a coffee, which was one of his favured first dates. Low pressure, low expectations, low risk.

And they had a great time. It was already getting into pumpkin spice season so Bucky had a pumpkin spice latte (Brooklyn hipster version, not Starbucks) with a pumpkin scone. _It’s a vegetable Steve_. While Steve had some sort of spiced tea with a dash of oat milk and a pumpkin salad. They talked about the old days, about Krypto and his companions and successors. Bucky talked about university in San Diego and how lonely he was when he moved up to San Francisco to work. Steve nodded sympathetically and leaned over at one point and touched Bucky’s hand and said, ‘I’m glad you came back to us Bucky’.

But afterwards, Steve just pulled him in for a bro hug and said he had to go to an organizing meeting.

‘I don’t think he thought it was a date,’ Bucky told Sam.

‘Of course he didn’t,’ Sam rolled his eyes. ‘You asked him for _coffee_. You guys have coffee _all the time_. You have to go bigger, Barnes.’

Bucky scowled, but accepted the advice.

Second, Bucky asked Steve out to the Met rooftop bar, which according to the internet was one of the top romantic things to do in New York. Also, Steve loved art. They wandered around the Met for a while. Steve was particularly delighted by an exhibition of New York drawings and prints, and Bucky watched at Steve sketched impressions of railway tracks running through high-rises, paperboys, streetscapes in strange perspectives. When he drew, Steve just had one deep furrow between his eyebrows. His lips would part slightly. His face was transformed, at peace. Bucky’s heart ached. Then they went up to the bar and sat sipping cocktails looking out over the city.

‘You ever think about moving out of Brooklyn?’ Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head. ‘Nah, Texas was great. Austin was great. But – a lot of stuff happened to me there, and I realised there’s no place like home,’ Steve smiled at Bucky. Almost like Bucky was part of that. Part of _home_.

‘Is that why you’ve got the red shoes tattoo?’ Bucky asked. He’d noticed the red high heels like a tramp stamp on Steve’s lower back.

Steve grinned and blushed a little. ‘Yeah, I know it’s cheesy, but–’

Bucky took a sip of his needlessly elaborate Manhattan. ‘You’ve got so much ink, Steve, no one will mind a couple of cheesy ones.’

Steve grinned.

‘So how did you get into tattooing?’ Bucky asked. Somehow he’d never asked Steve. It just seemed like such a natural thing. But Steve usually changed the subject when Texas came up.

Steve was quiet for a while, looking into his old fashioned.

‘So, you might remember I went down to Texas to do visual art.’

Bucky snorted – he _might_ remember. Of course he remembers Steve telling him that he was going all the way to Texas, while Bucky was going to California. And Bucky’s heart dropping. What had he hoped? That he and Steve would go to college together and Steve would turn around one day and see Bucky anew, afresh? Bucky remembered the moment he realised they were going to part, probably forever. Promises were made of road trips that never eventuated – the wide deserts of the Western United States separating them – miles turning into years.

‘Yeah, I remember,’ is all Bucky says.

‘So, money was pretty tight, and some guy told me you could made a lot volunteering for drug trials. Most of them didn’t want me because I had too many health problems, but eventually this Dr Erskine saw my application and – well – this.’ Steve gestured across his body. Bucky was pretty sure there was a lot more to it than that, but he didn’t want to push.

‘It was – hard. Painful sometimes. Sam was pretty mad at me.’ Steve even has the decency to look a little shamefaced, maybe seeing some reflection of Sam’s view in Bucky’s scowl.

‘And then Erskine was fired.’ Steve sighed. ‘The guy who took over, Dr Pierce, was nothing like Erskine. He kept pushing me into things – playing football, running track, seeing if I could be the start of something.’

There’s something in Steve’s face that Bucky hasn’t seen before. It sounds like he should be mad at this Pierce guy, but instead he seems almost _fearful_. Bucky reaches out and takes his hand, running his thumb across Steve’s palm, Steve gives a little shiver, his fingers curling.

‘Anyway, of course I was crap at things. I’d got bigger, but I was still asthmatic, still had scoliosis. I had no _skills_. Pierce was trying to _sell_ me to the military.’ Steve’s face finally curved in disgust and anger, the fire coming back into his eyes. ‘I was barely scraping by in my classes, I felt alien to myself.’

Fuck, Bucky just wanted to pull Steve into a hug and tell him he was still every inch Steve Rogers, every molecule.

‘Then Sam introduced me to this guy Clint who he went kayaking with. Clint was a tattoo artist who specialised in birds. He did the eagle across my back. It hurt so much, but it made my skin feel like mine again. I was hooked. I finished school with barely passable grades and started as an apprentice with Clint.’

‘And made your way back here.’ Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand. Which he was still holding.

‘Made my way back here,’ Steve said with a soft, warm smile.

Smiling, holding hands. Bucky felt like things were going well.

‘It’s really nice here, Bucky,’ Steve said. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’

‘I really like spending time with you, Steve.’ Bucky pressed their knees together.

‘This is really romantic.’ Steve looked around at the paper lanterns starting to glow in the twilight, the lights of the city flickering on. ‘You should bring a date here sometime.’

Bucky’s heart plunged. _Fuck_. Was Steve trying to let him down gently? They were still holding hands for fucks sake.

‘I want to be here with you, Stevie,’ he said. ‘Only with you.’

‘Sure Buck,’ Steve smiled and patted his hand. ‘But some other time you could bring someone here. You haven’t been dating much recently. I remember was a player you used to be.’

And with that Steve was standing and pulling on his coat and suggesting they find a food van somewhere.

Attempt three was another Met-themed date at the Cloisters, wandering through the gardens and looking at religious art. Bucky had read there were dark nooks for canoodling and hand-holding, but despite lingering in a couple of nooks, Steve didn’t take the hint. _Wow, that’s a really beautiful Madonna, Buck_.

‘I’d love to take my ma here,’ Steve said softly, looking across the garden. ‘She’d love it.’

‘Maybe we could take Sarah and Winnie here for a picnic next Mother’s Day,’ Bucky suggested.

‘That’s such a great idea!’ Steve enthused, turning to Bucky with his blue eyes wide. ‘They’d love it.’

‘Yeah, all this weird religious stuff is totally up their alley.’ Bucky wrinkled his nose, and Steve smiled.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, until Steve let out a little sigh. When Bucky looked over at him, those pink lips had curled down, and his shoulders were slumped.

‘What’s wrong, Stevie?’ Bucky asked softly.

Steve turned to him, and his eyes were so sad Bucky couldn’t help but reach out and touch his face. Steve leaned into Bucky’s palm a little, and Bucky’s chest tightened.

‘It’s just – all the paintings. All those images of suffering, of transformation, the judgement, it reminds me –’ Steve’s breath was a little unsteady. Bucky waited for him to continue, feeling the struggle in his jaw, in the palms kneading his thighs.

‘The trial was – it was pretty painful. But that wasn’t the worst. I’d always had a lot of pain.’ Steve licked his lips. ‘But afterwards I was so _different_. The world responded to me so differently. There were – there were a lot of people who’d never looked at me before, who I really thought wanted to get to know me. People wanted to _touch me_ –’

Steve took a few shaky breaths. Bucky’s hand was still resting on his warm, bearded cheek.

‘And I wanted them too, Bucky. I had all this energy coursing in my body.’ Steve pulled away from Bucky. ‘I was – I was kind of – I slept with a lot of people. And they would – they liked my body, liked being seen with me. But after a while they would lose interest.’

Steve leaned back against the seat, staring into the garden. ‘All of this art, these paintings, it just makes me remember how lonely I was then. I guess I was ashamed as well – I thought there was something wrong with me, that nobody really wanted me like that. I always thought that people just weren’t able to see me for me because I was skinny and weird looking.

‘Steve,’ Bucky said softly, ‘that’s nothing to be ashamed of. And those people were idiots.’ Bucky reached out tentatively and gave Steve’s hand a squeeze. ‘Also, you were always hot.’

_Remember how beautiful you looked after getting into a fight with your eyes on fire and your lips painted red._

‘Thanks, Bucky,’ Steve said, a sad little smile playing around his lips, as if he wasn’t quite convinced.

Steve was thoughtful and quiet for the rest of the afternoon, so Bucky just stayed quietly by his side, pressing their shoulders together every now and then.

Next, Bucky tried Domino Park in Brooklyn at sunset, looking over the Williamsburg and Brooklyn Bridges. In the pink tinged light Steve’s face was soft, his blonde hair a little pinkish. Bucky bravely let their fingers brush a few times, and Steve turned to him and smiled, dimples showing.

Then that line again. ‘You should bring someone special here, Bucky, it’s really romantic.’

‘You’re special Steve,’ Bucky replied. ‘And you’re special to _me_.’ Bucky stared meaningfully into Steve’s warm blue eyes, but Steve looked away and withdrew his hand.

Then the planetarium. Which, okay, was more a Bucky thing but stars were _really cool_ and _how amazing is dark matter Steve like it’s most of the universe but what is it even_. And god Steve really did look at him fondly, eyes sparkling. _Yeah Bucky, pretty cool_. And afterwards Steve sketched out tattoo design of stars and galaxies and said _I could do one for you one day Bucky_.

‘That would mean a lot to me, Steve, for you to design something for me. To always wear it on my skin.’

Steve lowered his head so his long hair fell across his face. ‘Sure, Bucky.’

They fell into uneasy silence, Bucky feeling a wall coming down to shut off anything else he might have said. Such as _I want to wear you on my skin, I want you inside me, me inside you_.

_V,_

Bucky was dispirited and sought counsel from Natasha.

‘Maybe you’re being too romantic,’ she suggested. ‘You should just try to jump his bones. Dress sexy for Halloween and seduce him.’

‘It’ll have to be a pretty amazing costume to beat the yoga shorts,’ Bucky gave Natasha a pleading look. She would have ideas. _And_ she was hosting a party with her housemates.

‘I think you want something different. Not revealing. _Seduce him_.’ Natasha looks thoughtful. ‘You had that 40s look for the prom. What about something 40s?’

Bucky narrowed his eyes. _Not_ revealing his body. Interesting. ‘But, how would that be sexy?’

Natasha sighed theatrically. She had embraced the season by wearing an enormous, knitted sweater dress that went down to her knees in red and orange and yellow and brown. ‘Am I wearing something revealing?’ She asked, gesturing at the dress.

Bucky shook his head.

‘Do I look sexy?’ she asked.

Bucky tilted his head. Her hair was growing out and was a rich, chestnut bob. She was wearing a hint of eyeliner and a smudge of dark lipstick. ‘Yeah, you look smoking hot.’

‘See, sexiness isn’t just about showing flesh. Remind Steve of the prom, the past, but show how you’ve changed. And then jump him.’

‘Okay,’ Bucky nodded.

That’s how Bucky ended up at Natasha’s party in a World War Two sergeant’s uniform and a jaunty cap. Based of a photo of his great-uncle James before he shipped out to Europe. He was a mess of nerves as he peeked out of Natasha’s room, having announced to Steve and Sam that he was getting ready elsewhere.

 _He’s here_. He stared at the message on his phone from Nat. He’d warmed up with a few vodka shots, but hadn’t relaxed the twisting in his stomach.

‘You can do this, Barnes,’ he said in his best Sergeant voice.

He wandered down the stairs. The party was in its early stages. People were standing around drinking punch out of compostable cups and discussing their costumes. Bucky had been present for the mixing of that punch, and he was pretty sure the veneer of respectability was going to last an hour at best.

A few people raised cups at him and he pointed vaguely towards the kitchen where the punch bowl was living to avoid conversation, scanning the crowd for Steve. Stumbling into the kitchen he ground to a halt, frozen by the sight of Steve dressed in a fucking _gladiator_ costume ladling out punch for an adoring crowd of men and women gathered around him.

He was wearing a leather skirt with metal studs that Bucky guessed was vaguely based on Russell Crowe’s costume in gladiator, but without the decency underskirt. His beautiful, lean legs stretched for miles, crisscrossed by some sort of knee high leather sandals. His right leg was decorated with a huge, green Celtic dragon in a sea of flowers and patterns that writhed across the hills and valleys of his muscles. The skin of his left leg was bare. His top was some sort of leather vest which could loosely be described as ‘armor’ but was more likely a bondage harness of some sort.

Bucky might have died and gone to heaven. He stumbled forward and possibly made some sort of incoherent noise. Steve turned, soft and bearded and beautiful.

Did Steve pause, ladle in hand? Did his eyes widen at the sight of Bucky approaching?

‘Buck,’ Steve breathed. ‘You look amazing. Really handsome.’

Bucky straightened up, blushing. ‘Thanks Steve. You look – um –’ Bucky was literally lost for words.

At Steve’s side a red-haired woman – Lorraine, Bucky thought it was – she worked with Natasha – giggled and said, ‘Good enough to eat.’ She was staring at Steve like she might literally eat him.

But Steve just kept staring at Bucky, lips parted.

‘Could I grab some punch?’ Bucky gasped, composure lost in the face of Steve’s eyelashes and the appearance of his dimples.

‘Sure thing, Bucky,’ Steve finished pouring the cup in his hand and passed it to Bucky, earning Bucky a withering sneer from Lorraine. Bucky was immune. Steve’s fingers brushed his and they _lingered_ for a moment.

‘ _Steve_ ,’ Lorraine bent forward. She was dressed as a sexy nurse. So _basic_ Bucky scoffed to himself.

‘I think I’m next in line,’ she pouted and pushed her cleavage together.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Steve blushed and returned to his duty, glancing shyly back towards Bucky, who thoughtlessly downed half his punch.

Quickly, everything became a bit of a blur. Bucky tried to stick close to Steve, found himself touching those acres of skin and muscle, tracing the patterns on his arms.

For a while they were on the dance floor together, Bucky undulating against Steve, basking in the dark of Steve’s pupils, the heat of his body, the flash of his teeth between wetly parted lips.

‘Do you remember prom, Stevie?’ Bucky slurred softly.

‘Of course I do,’ Steve replied with a smile, and Bucky pulled him close then spun him out, hearing Steve laughing with delight.

They stumbled, breathless over to the couch, and Steve let Bucky snuggle against his side. Bucky’s hat was tilted back rakishly (he hoped) and he was staring into Steve’s eyes. Steve was so warm. Steve was the universe. Bucky stared up at him, blinking. Steve’s lips were so pink and soft. He smelled like strawberries.

Or maybe that was the punch.

‘I asked you to go with me, but you thought I meant with everyone,’ Bucky felt his mouth turning down. ‘I jus’ wanted you Steve.’

Steve frowned a little. _Frowned_. Steve shouldn’t frown. Bucky reached up and pressed a finger into the furrow on Steve’s forehead.

‘You shouldn’t frown, Steve,’ Bucky chided. ‘I’m jus’ tellin’ you I liked you. I _like_ you.’ Bucky pressed his finger to emphasize his point.

Steve reached up and took Bucky’s hand, squeezed it in his own. Lowered it down and pressed it to his chest, near his heart, below the swallows. He looked down at Bucky, who blinked back as earnestly as his could. Earnest but sexy. Maybe a little pout. Maybe he could lean up towards Steve, put his hand on Steve’s thigh. Oh god it was so soft, covered with fine, downy hair –

‘Bucky,’ Steve sighed, sadly. _Sadly_. Why was Steve sad?

‘I really like you Steve. I wanna kiss you,’ Bucky trailed his fingers over Steve’s leg. ‘I’ve always wanted to kiss you.’

Steve took both of Bucky’s hands and rested them back in Bucky’s lap. ‘You’re drunk, Bucky.’

 _Fuck_. Bucky had _got drunk_ and now Steve _didn’t want to take advantage of him_.

Bucky grumbled and stared at his hands.

‘Fine, I’m drunk. But I still meant it.’ He looked crossly at Steve, the sharp movement making his hat tip off his head. ‘I’ll say the same thing tomorrow. I’ve said the same thing before. I’ve always wanted you Steve. I like you the best of anyone.’

Bucky tried to turn his scowl into a seductive but imploring look, tried to muster all the feeling he had been trying to convey to Steve Rogers for decades now.

Steve stared back at him, that frowny line still cutting into his forehead, his jaw twitching like it did when he was mad. Why was he _mad_? Was he _mad_ that Bucky liked him? Maybe even _loved_ him?

Bucky gave a small hiccup of shock, mouth hanging open.

‘Sure, Bucky,’ Steve said tightly, with a sharp shake of his head, looking away from Bucky. He levered himself of the couch, all bare skin and ink and tiny amounts of pleather. ‘I think I’ll get some water.’

And Steve vanished. Not reappearing. At least not before Bucky had nodded off on the couch, where he woke in the morning, covered with a blanket, uniform still on.

Natasha was putting a coffee, a glass of water and two Advil on the table beside him. Her hair was in some sort of peach sleep turban and she was draped in a large piece of green silk that seemed like it might be a nightie. Or a robe. Or pyjamas.

Bucky groaned and groped for the water.

Natasha handed it to him, face inscrutable. Bucky tried to drink without sitting up and managed to get about a quarter of the water in his mouth and the rest on his chest and the couch. He blinked down at his damp chest. He was still in the uniform. Fuck. Steve. Who had rejected his advances.

Bucky groaned again, with more purpose and meaning this time, and collapsed back onto the couch.

‘I know,’ Natasha sighed. ‘It didn’t go so well.’

 _Fuck_. Natasha looked – perturbed. Slightly perturbed.

‘I drank too much punch,’ Bucky moaned and clutched his face.

‘I got too drunk and then Steve’ – Bucky’s breath hitched – ‘ _pushed me off him_.’

Natasha sighed and pressed her lips together. Bucky looked at her, mouth hanging open, because apparently he had literally gone slack jawed.

‘There’s more?’ he choked out feebly.

Natasha nodded. ‘I think he went home with Lorraine.’

Bucky whimpered. He put his hand on his chest, where he felt a tight pain. Everything seemed a little far away. He pictured Steve in the museum, pressing his pencil against his lips, looking at the drawings in wonder. On the rooftop, sipping his cocktail, looking out over the city. At the coffee shop eating fucking salad while Bucky consumed 1000 calories worth of beverage. In his prom outfit, letting Bucky spin him on the dance floor, laughing. Pressing Bucky’s hand – _It’s okay for us just to be friends_.

Bucky let out a long, shuddering sigh and shut his eyes. Steve just wanted to be friends. He wasn’t an idiot. Bucky had been _so obvious_ and Steve had _so obviously_ been trying to let him down gently. But Bucky hadn’t taken the hint.

‘I’m sorry, James,’ said Natasha. ‘Sam and I were wrong to keep pushing you. You were very obvious last night, and Steve –’

Bucky cracked his eye. ‘Is it possible he was just being a gentleman?’ God he was pathetic.

Natasha looked thoughtful. ‘I mean, she was all over him.’

Bucky snorted. ‘So was I. Means nothing.’

‘He was kind of holding onto her.’

‘To keep her upright.’ Bucky was feeling suddenly optimistic.

‘They left together,’ Natasha said.

‘Yeah, but Steve would never sleep with someone that drunk, right?’ Bucky was feeling positively chipper.

Natasha hummed. ‘He kissed her.’

Bucky’s stomach swooped a little, but he held on tightly to the shoot of hope in his belly.

‘Whatever, she probably just grabbed him and made him do it.’ Bucky struggled to a sitting position and cautiously sipped the coffee. Warmth spread in his stomach, and as the shoot blossomed into a small shrub he allowed him to recall that thought from last night. _Love_. That he might _love_ Steve. With his frowny face and his twitchy jaw – fuck.

Bucky was just confused.

By the time he got home – having been fed a fortifying brunch of eggs, hash browns and bacon by Maria, Sharon and Natasha – Steve was sitting at the kitchen table, showered a soft and floofy in sweatpants and a ridiculously tight sweater. He was staring at a blank page of paper and had his frustrated artist look on his face. Bucky wanted to crawl into that warmth and softness, pull Steve around him. He wanted to _love_ Steve. Smooth away that frown, _kiss_ away that frown.

‘Steve,’ Bucky said breathlessly, dropping the bag with his costume in it.

Steve looked up, but the frown didn’t shift. ‘Bucky,’ he said, voice a little strained.

‘Steve, I need to say something to you. Now. When I am completely sober.’

‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Bucky.’ Steve fiddled with his pencil. His voice was small and tight.

‘It doesn’t matter, I have to say it,’ Bucky stuck out his chin, full of the flood of memories, the feel of Steve’s skin pressed against him.

‘Hang on – just one thing – did you go home with Lorraine?’ Bucky wasn’t going to make a _complete_ fool of himself.

‘ _No_ ,’ Steve said indignantly. ‘I put her in an Uber. She was drunk.’

‘And her costume was terrible,’ Bucky scoffed.

‘ _Bucky_ ,’ Steve chided, and Bucky had the decency to blush. She probably wasn’t a bad person. All bad.

‘Steve Rogers,’ Bucky walked over to the table, holding on to the back of a chair and staring straight at Steve. ‘I know we’ve been friends for a long time, and most of that time I’ve wanted more than that.’ Steve moved to speak but Bucky ploughed on. ‘I _like_ you Steve, romantically. Actually, I think I might be in love with you, but I guess we would have to do relationship things for me to know for sure. But I know I _want_ to do those things. Kiss you, date you, hold your hand, snuggle –’

Bucky trailed off, his list of things he wanted to do turning a little inappropriate in his brain. He didn’t want to come on too strong. Too much _stronger_.

He heart was galloping and his chest was rising and falling. He kept staring at Steve, who was staring at Bucky with a kind of agonized expression on his face.

Bucky’s heart faltered. That wasn’t the look you really wanted your declaration of love met with. The silence lengthened painfully, like a knife staring a slow journey through Bucky’s sternum.

‘Bucky,’ Steve said, voice hoarse and serious. ‘I know you think that –’

‘What the fuck Steve? What is that? I know you _think_ that? You think I don’t know my own feelings?’ Bucky was tearing up with anger and frustration at this giant fucking dumbass who _refused to believe_ that Bucky liked him, loved him.

Steve looked pained, and maybe tears were gathering in his throat too. ‘If you got to know me better you wouldn’t feel that way, Bucky. I’m – I’m difficult and needy and I’m a mess. I’m not good enough for you.’ Steve dropped off at the end of the sentence and looked down at the blank page.

‘I don’t _know_ you?’ Bucky couldn’t believe it. ‘I know you Steve. I know you’re prickly and angry and passionate and so full of love and talented and beautiful. If there are things I don’t know I want to get to know them so I can love those parts of you too.’

Bucky was crying a little now, sniffling and sobbing. ‘And how could you not be good enough for me? I’m a boring IT guy who can’t regulate his punch drinking and has a sugar addiction who abandoned his best friend and left him to be a fucking idiot and volunteer for a medical experiment.’

‘Bucky, you don’t have to like me out of _guilt_ ,’ Steve said.

‘That wasn’t what I said, Steve.’ Bucky threw his hands up in the air.

Steve just shook his head, a few fat tears falling onto the blank page.

‘If you don’t like me Steve just _say it_ , just say it and we can be done with it.’ Bucky’s chest heaved.

Steve didn’t respond, didn’t look up.

Bucky took a sobbing breath and ran to his room, slamming the door behind him. He cried silently into his pillow, like he was 14 again and his heart had been broken for the first time.

Bucky woke late in the evening still dressed and still hungover. He blinked into the darkness.

He had to stop trying. He had to.

But Steve hadn’t said it. Hadn’t said _I don’t like you Bucky_.

Fuck. Steve was a clever guy. Why was he being such an idiot?

Bucky _had to convince him_. Only when Steve really understood how much Bucky liked him, _loved_ him, would Bucky believe that he was rejecting him.

This dating and seducing, that was all too basic. Apparently Steve Rogers’ dumbassery was resistant to all of that.

Bucky needed to do something _extreme_.

_VI.  
_

Steve was sitting on the couch eating icecream. At 11 in the morning.

Sam had entered the room, looked at him, glared for a full minute, and then left.

Steve was. Well. He was _sure_ he had done the right thing.

He remembered the day Bucky had arrived at their house. George and Winnie and Becca were all helping him move and they’d rushed to Steve, crushing him in Barnes hugs. Winnie was a little teary, all _so happy to see you Steven, your mother talks about you all the time but look at you_. George was, _Steve, I hear you’ve got your on business now, well done my man_. Becca squealed and exclaimed over his tattoos, _I met someone at a party the other night and they were raving about you and your designs_.

And behind them was Bucky, hair pulled into a little bun at the base of his neck, all flustered and grumpy because it was an unseasonably hot Spring day. His skin was rich and golden after all those California years, freckles across his nose and bare shoulders. He was wearing short pink shorts and a yellow tank top and he was just as beautiful as he always was. Steve’s heart stopped and his face broke into a ridiculous smile. He pulled Bucky into a hug and he grumbled against Steve’s chest.

And then living with him. Waking up to Bucky sitting at the kitchen table wearing his _glasses_ and peering at his tablet, hair in a messy ponytail. Bucky telling him random facts. _Steve, do you know that a teaspoonful of neutron star would weigh **6 billion tons**! No, Bucky, I didn’t_. Bucky doing yoga in the living room in those tiny shorts and his mesh top, his thick, meaty thighs flexing and bulging as he ran through surya namaskar, the spread of his fleshy ass in downward dog, the adorable little roll of his belly above his waistband. Steve would sit, shifty uncomfortably, hot desire pulsing through him, cock shifting in his pants.

But Bucky was his _friend_. He didn’t need to be burdened with Steve’s crazy, medically elevated libido. _Oh, not again Steve._

But Bucky seemed to want to hang out with him. Steve hadn’t been sure, after they drifted apart during college. At first they’d called and skyped, but when Steve was overwhelmed by the trial, by afterwards, their communication had dwindled. Winnie and George had moved to Florida, and while Sarah kept in touch, there was no reason for Bucky to come back to New York for vacations. When Steve was in Texas he would sometimes scroll through Bucky’s Instagram and his heart would ache a little at the images of Bucky at the beach, smiling, surrounded by beautiful people, beautiful _friends_ , or out at bars. His hair growing longer, his face settling into the lines of the man he destined to be – soft and kind and loved.

Steve would ache at the memory of Bucky saying _like like you Steve_. And it as all that Steve had ever wanted, but he couldn’t say yes. Couldn’t say yes to Bucky, who so clearly deserved the best of everything, better than Steve.

It was funny, though, with Bucky back in New York. He had Natasha, who he had reconnected with in San Francisco ( _it was a dark time Stevie – what happened in Silicon Valley stays in Silicon Valley_ ) and who Steve had coincidentally and separately reconnected when she became one of his regular clients. But Bucky didn’t have the hoards of friends and lovers Steve had always imagined. He was actually a little shy around new people, and seemed more interested in reading quietly with Steve at the coffee shop, or taking him on excursions around the city.

Steve wasn’t a complete idiot (Sam who lived in his head rent free scoffed at him), he could tell that Bucky was hinting that he might be interested in something with Steve. But how could Steve tell him – I’ve been in love with you forever, Bucky, it would be _too much too intense_ all those other things people had told him. Brock, Peggy.

Steve couldn’t stand to see the expressions he had seen on their faces on Bucky’s – scornful, pitying.

So Steve would stay strong.

As he stared mournfully at the bottom of the peanut butter brownie icecream tub there was a rattle at the door. He looked up with a start as Bucky burst into the room, ponytail messy, wearing a loose cotton shirt which was too light for the weather.

‘Bucky,’ Steve jumped guiltily, unable to hide the icecream tub.

‘Steve,’ Bucky glared at him, eyes flashing steely blue, cheeks pink from the cold. Bucky pointed a finger. ‘You, my friend, are the biggest stubbornest punk-ass jerk in the entire world. I’ve tried romancing you, seducing you, _telling_ you I want you, and you won’t _fucking listen_. So –’ Bucky gave a triumphant grin ‘– I’m gonna show you.’

And Bucky whipped his shirt over his head. Steve let out an involuntary whimper. At first just because of the sight of Bucky’s curving, squishable pecs, his muscles abdomen and little soft belly. But then his whimper turned into a horrified exclamation.

‘Bucky, what have you done?’

Bucky stalked towards Steve and bared his chest, pointing to the raw, red tattoo on his sternum. It was a basic black heart with _Bucky Barnes_ an arch over the top, _Steve Rogers_ underneath, and _loves_ in the centre of the heart.

‘Bucky –’ Steve was – Steve was – Steve didn’t know anything anymore. He stared up at Bucky, who was gazing down at him, defiant, trembling, terrified, _loving_. Fuck. Steve was a dumbass. He reached his arms up and grabbed hold of Bucky, pulling him down. Bucky landed in Steve’s lap with a soft _oof_ , straddling Steve.

Steve held onto Bucky’s face, feeling the rough start of his stubble, seeing the tears on his eyelashes.

‘Oh Bucky,’ Steve whispered reverently, and pulled him into a kiss. So gentle at first, feeling the texture of Bucky’s lips, the puff of his breath fast and damp. Steve ran his hands over Bucky’s back, feeling his ribs move rapidly. Fuck his skin. His skin was soft and cool as a flower petal. As a pink rose.

Steve moaned and Bucky parted his lips. Their tongues ghosted against one another and Steve was lost he was gone his body was on fire and Bucky Barnes was in his lap, was grinding down on Steve and they were both in sweatpants, both wearing no underwear and fuck the shape of Bucky through the fabric. Steve gripped hard at the flesh on Bucky’s sides, Bucky groaned and rode Steve harder, their kisses messy and frantic. Bucky’s hands were on Steve’s face, tugging at his hair, smoothing across his shoulders.

‘Steve, Steve, Steve,’ Bucky’s words were a litany, a benediction. Why had Steve worried? Bucky was an angel.

Bucky was wriggling his own sweatpants down and tugging Steve’s cock free. Steve gripped around the base of their cocks, pressing them together, while Bucky stroked across the heads, smeared pre-come along the underside of their shafts as they rubbed together with electric, burning friction. Steve bit into the ropes of Bucky’s neck, the muscles of his shoulders.

‘ _Steeeeve_ ,’ Bucky keened, high and desperate and Steve was coming into Bucky’s hands, his grip growing slick as Bucky thrust desperate and rough and came, Steve watching as his body arched, his mouth open, tears on his cheeks.

They slumped together, sticky and hot and panting, Bucky’s head buried in Steve’s shoulder. Steve traced across Bucky’s collarbones, down across his chest to where the tattoo stood out stark on Bucky’s skin.

‘Bucky,’ Steve whispered.

‘Hunfh.’ Bucky wiggled, burying further into Steve.

‘Bucky, this tattoo is awful. Truly awful.’ Steve gently flicked Bucky’s nipple. ‘And it should still be bandaged.’

‘You’ll have to wash it and cover it up again for me,’ Bucky pulled his head back, so disheveled and flushed Steve could feel his cock stirring again. ‘And I guess after it heals maybe you’ll have to do a cover up. I hear you specialize in those.’

Steve stared at Bucky. This ridiculous man who had refused to let Steve push him away. Had persisted with loving him. Had gone to some shitty tattoo parlor and got a shitty tattoo so Steve could not deny that Bucky loved him. Now it was written on his skin.

‘I love you Bucky Barnes,’ Steve said, stroking a finger over Bucky’s cheek.

And Bucky smiled, blinding and perfect.

‘Took you long enough, punk.’

‘Shut up, jerk.’

‘Shut me up,’ Bucky said, breathless and beautiful, wriggling delightedly on Steve’s hardening dick.

Steve growled and stood up, holding Bucky by the legs. Bucky squealed and hung on, laughing as Steve carried him to his room.

_Epilogue_

Bucky’s terrible tattoo was a hard fix. Mostly because Bucky refused to completely obscure it. Steve had to work to add colors and designs to the heart, going for a sort of neo-traditional look, and adding bursts of flowers – pink and yellow roses and green leaves around the textured red of the heart.

But the words were still there. And while Steve would have totally done a better job on the lettering, he guessed it wasn’t so bad to see that declaration every day across his husband’s heart, written on his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> I find it really difficult to write misunderstandings. I read all those stories where they both like each other but neither gets the hint but I get too infuriated to write them.
> 
> So, instead what I went for here was persistence in the face of idiocy. Let me know how you think it worked! I'm happy to receive any and all comments.
> 
> My little reflections on writing these prompts is that it's harder than I thought it would be. My own stories kind of flow out of me organically, but I have to work harder to get the characters to make sense to me when I'm starting with the skeleton of someone else's idea. This is how this prompt made sense for me.
> 
> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/powerfulowl2) and [Tumblr](https://stuckyflangst.tumblr.com/)


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